Some folk like you work to live, whist others live to work.
I was always in the former category myself, and wasn't on the same wavelenth as the latter, whose work is the most important thing in their lives. Some of the sad bastards actually put work B4 family, they think that wherever they work will collapse to dust if they are not there.
What they never get is that 10min after they retire or otherwise leave the place it's a case of "Jimmy Who? Oh I think there might have been somebody like that worked here a long time ago", but as Connelly says they are more to be pitied than scorned.
What really does my nut in is those poor bastards who lose the will to live when they retire and are dead within six months or so. There was a wee guy drunk in my pub and some months after he retired he spoke to me " This retirement is hellish I'm so bored I feel as though I am just waiting to die. How do you put up with it?". As I told him, if you get off yer arse and get out in the world you will find that at times there are not enough hours in the fucking day to do all you want. Needless to say within a year the poor wee bastard was in a hospice.
No they better have big bastard nails for my box when I go, or I'll Be Back!!!!!!!!